Ugh

Anxiety is a bitch. I can't really recall when I started noticing that I sometimes feel anxious, wait, that may not be entirely true. I do remember my second semester of freshman year in college having a short lived panic attack about money and planning for housing the following year. But now the anxiety isn't a worry, its a feeling. Its physical. Its emotional. And it sucks. I can take deep breaths and chug a bottle of water because sometimes that helps. I can walk around or go to the gym because for me anxiety feels like a lot of built up energy that needs to be burned off. But that doesn't alleviate it. The most frustrating part of it, at least what is going on today, is that I can think of one pretty quick way for it to go away. But I don't have control over that. Which is probably part of the reason for the pain of it. Without making it worse, I don't know how I can try to make it better. I feel like I'm constantly praying to God to give me strength, clarity, patience, help, support, comfort, that one specific request. But none of those come. Which increases my frustration. I spiral from frustration to almost hysteria. Its remnicent of the bad days from the Ex. Crying and sobbing and maybe an occasion scream out loud. Its stuck in the back of my throat and tears are just waiting to spill. I don't know what to do...

Heart ache

It dawned on me tonight that it would be more than difficult for me to seek out counseling services for myself since the area that I live in is very small and has limited resources and I'm in the field. I came to this conclusion while going through in my mind the same thing that pretty much always comes up when I'm alone. The fact that I'm alone. A lot. And lonely a lot too.

I've tried to analyze myself. My past choices in men/boys. The patterns. The reasons. The motivations and the pay offs. The problems. The searches. The limits my environment and my personality place on me. I've listened to feedback from friends, family, and relative strangers. I've asked some difficult questions to people who I know will, and do, give me honest answers. The best I've uncovered so far is that where I live is completely noncondusive and if I were to weigh less I might have better odds.

Thing is, dissecting it is all well and good, but it doesn't make me any less lonely. I have moments of pure ache in my chest and every time I breath my eyes spill tears that won't be held back. It hurts my heart and soul to know that in spite of all the well wishers and friendly stories, no one really can be sure that my whole life won't be spent alone. Alone and searching. I don't even understand how to not search, otherwise that would at least be a change of pace in this dark and difficult hallway. The what if  I don't find "the one" question seems to be looming larger and larger each time I see my brother and sister with their respective others. And my happily paired up friends tell me about planning for another child or another move or a new house or another marker of their adulthood and progression in life. While I just search and wait and try not to cry every single time I feel rejected. Because I'd be in tears too often to do anything else.

Wahhh Wahhh Wahh

I like to write. I don't care so much to read what I've written, at least not right away. I do, however, like to come across things that I've put down into words long ago and remember exactly how I felt or what was going on in my life at that moment. For some reason there are really powerful emotions that fill my head when I come across a poetry notebook from college or an email to an old friend during a difficult time in our lives. It makes me want to write more. And when I read some of my favorite books, I want to be able to do what those authors do. I love to get so engrossed in a novel or memior or young adult series that I can't stop until I know the ending.

Then there are days when I get frustrated with life. I don't mean all of life. I have a pretty easy go when you look at it objectively. But I keep finding myself lonely. And to avoid becoming bitter or whiny, I try to be mindful about who I say what to. I don't need everyone who knows me to know that my heart literally aches sometimes. My eyes burn from tears that hurt to cry. I want to scream and cry and hit things. I pray to God that instead of patience and understanding, He give me an actual answer about what this all means. I've got too many fond memories of crying myself to sleep because I just don't understand it. And I don't really want to understand why, I just want it to be different. I want there to be a man in my life who is amazing. I want to find love. I want love to find me. I don't like being lonely. I don't like this chest pain and tear stained t-shirt. I don't care to be able to entertain myself forever. I know that if it happens that I am alone in the long term, I'll be ok. I've got some pretty amazing role models for that. But I can't imagine that that's what God has planned for me.

Before I get too bogged down in the anxiety and sadness that this topic tends to drudge up, I'm going to stop. The lovely and damning thing is, there is only so much that I alone can do to remedy this situation, and I can do almost nothing this late into a Sunday evening. But if I can do one thing, it would be to keep writing and finding new things to write about. Maybe through that I can find somehting else that keeps me occupied and lively. I also need to remind myself to continue being on the path of improvment for my entire being. Again, maybe through that I can also improve my chances of not becoming a lonely spinster, one way or another.

American Road Trip

“My lands are where my dead lie buried.” –Crazy Horse

Epic as a word seems to be overused these days, but my brother and I are on what I think is an epic trip. A once in a lifetime trip across the country. Iowa. South Dakota. Montana. Idaho. Utah. Texas. Tennessee. Most of the states in between. We’re seeing as much of this country as we can. I’m taking pictures of the roads, the mountains, state capitals, monuments, signs, rivers, lakes, animals, and us with all of the above. He’s letting me. We’re spending time with my very best friend and her love. With our sister and her buddies. With strangers along the way. At houses and campgrounds, and maybe a hotel or two.  There are things that have surprised me and pleased me, and maybe one or two that have triggered anger or frustration. My brother and I used to beat each other, but now we’re taking care of each other on the road. Trading out driving and sleeping and giving directions. Watching our monies but not wanting to miss out on an adventure.  When I turn 27, I’ll be able to check a few things off of my 26 year old list. I finally made it to Nashville, even if just for a few minutes. And I’ve made it across country. I’ve made another step towards doing what I say I’m going to do. Even if it’s against my Daddy’s wishes and more money than I need to spend.  Even though I could wait until I’m older and have more time to spend. I wanted to see things, and I’m doing that. And I might even be learning a few things while I’m at it.

Looking back, over the years...

Every time the clock shows 2:30, I instinctively think, or say, “no my tooth doesn’t hurty.” When someone is in the car with me and there are round hay bales in a pasture, I tell a joke about cows not liking those because they can’t get a square meal. As annoying as these kind of things can be, I love being able to share them with others, because they are my “Daddy jokes.” They constantly remind me of my father’s ridiculous sense of humor, and just how much he has ingrained himself in my day-to-day thoughts. Last week, while lecturing some of my kids about finances, I literally stopped and said “I sound just like my mom right now.” I could honestly hear her saying the same things to me as I was saying to these teenagers. It was a humbling experience, and one that makes me appreciate how true the things that she has taught me are.

These little moments make me want to keep a record of how some of my family and friends are. Some of the little reasons that I love them. Or hate them. But all are reasons that they have meant something to me, enough that I remember these little traits or moments.

Like that Grandma Martha cuts the tags out of ALL of her clothes. She says its because she can’t stand to see people’s tags sticking out of their collar.

Grandmama’s “Oh Gawd” at all kinds of things.

Having my baby brother be sweet to me when my heart broke.

My Katie’s messages that I have saved because they are so funny/random/bizarre and all around awesome. Like her.

Seeing my sister’s handwriting on something random and missing her.

How my Imp gets is so passionate about things she loves…and hates.

D and his “hahahaha” All. The. Time.

The last time I saw my Auntie Ann and being able to share with her how much I appreciate her being there for us.

When I was in college, the last thing my parents (especially Daddy) would say to me when I’d leave to come back to Western was “make all A’s.” It was even after the obligatory “I love you’s.”

Mama Sherry saving can tabs for me.

L*May sharing quotes from “Friends”  with me. And vice versa.

“Do they have ________ in Kenya?”

Just like so many other things I have posted, I would love to add to this list as things come to me. I find it comforting that when someone is no longer in my life, I can still have special memories of them, even if it is something small, to look back on and smile about.  I still love picturing Josh’s face when he’d cut in the lunch line and get me to buy his food. I hear Liz’s laugh when I think about her. One day, these will be happy memories that I want to make sure I don't lose. I don’t want to forget…just in case.

Happy birthday to me!

I just turned a year older. While I happily take another year over the alternative, I get a little anxious about all the things I still haven’t done and seen or accomplished. I decided this morning that since the idea of a bucket list is something I enjoy, I’d make a list of things I’d like to check off before my next birthday celebration.

*road trip across country

*Visit Nashville

*chop off all my hair

* a new stamp on my passport

*save a few thousand bucks

*get a pet

*be able to make at least 5 meals…well

I know I’ll add things to this and find plenty that I’d like to add but know I won’t be able to cover in the next 360 or so days.  So this is just what I can come up with 3 days into being 26.

soapbox

Because of the current events of the day I’m tempted to go on a rant about the justice system or how we glorify and make famous people for common, awful, everyday things. I find it particularly interesting how just yesterday everyone was posting about and praising this country for what it is and what we as a people have fought for.  I could talk about how many people want to get self righteous and angry about this, but are able to act as though EVERYDAY babies and children aren’t starving, homeless, abused, molested, neglected, and suffering right down the street from us.  What about the kids on my caseload who literally don’t have toilet paper or trash bags? Or have had family members molest them over and over without punishment? What about the small town police officers who let abusers off “this time” because they’re old high school buddies? Or the teenagers who kick the air out of their dog because they get the air kicked out of them by their parents? Where is the anger and indignation about these kids? Who, by the way, are still alive! When do we get to be angry that there is no justice for them either? Why do we get to make her a celebrity just because this case was more interesting than the ones in Swain County or BFE Georgia? Is her baby any more dead than the one who froze to death in a trailer? Are we that comfortable in our air conditioned living rooms that we think we have any idea what the pain is for the family members in that court room? What kind of society do we have when this is front page news, yet I see  children and teenagers who don’t make it to school because they’ve been up all night listening to mom and dad fight and all we say is, “ they’re just truant, it’s nothing big?”

I guess I’m more than just tempted to rant. This is a big deal, and that baby is gone because people were not caring for her like she deserved. Who’s to blame? I have no idea and I doubt anyone besides the guilty party(ies) will ever fully understand what happened.  But I cannot see the anger carrying people through to positive action. I see hate and aggression and ignorance. But not change. That takes more work and more effort than just words. That would take people leaving their couches and going to a food bank. Becoming foster parents. Donating to back to school programs and domestic violence shelters. Becoming a mentor.  Tutoring kids to read and go on job interviews. Not turning our heads when we see bruises and breaks and behaviors that suggest abuse and rape. Following up with survivors. Blaming the perpetrator, NOT the victim. And doing the right thing instead of the easy thing.